Demon Love

This ff has been inspired by three different aspects. a) The homonymous song by the wonderful German gothic band "ASP" (.com) which, step by step, will be written down here. b) By my very special feelings and experiences regarding Demon Love. c) By my friend Pia, who is crazy for the following pairing. Thus, this story can be considered as an early Christmas present for her.

WARNING: You will not read any detailed explanation of sexual actions. I'm simply not able to write them and thus prefer to concentrate on feelings and hints.

As usual, nothing I use here is mine. Title and potential quotes are ASP's property; the characters belong to Mrs. J.K. Rowling.

Blaise's POV

He lay coiled up on his bed, the sheet pulled over his head. He didn't want to hear or see anything. He just let himself drown in the pain that still flashed through his veins, his bones, his nerves. And his backside. Last night, it hadn't hurt that much because he had been filled up with excitement and lust. But now, all alone, he felt the unnatural sting that had felt so good last night. Still, he thought bitterly, he deserved it. So long, he had been able to deny the attraction some of his fellow pupils had on him – Cedric Diggory, "Potty", Steven Cornfoot – and HE. Well, Draco Malfoy had been the only one he had had a real crush on, not so easy to deny. And then, last night, at dinner…

- FLASHBACK –

"Come on, Zabini, sit down here! I have to ask you something about that potions-stuff!"
Draco Malfoy's command echoed through the Great Hall, so he couldn't simply act as if he hadn't heard it – everybody had. Blaise shrugged. He didn't even know anything about a potions homework, but maybe they could work something out. He shouldn't get any more problems with professor Snape – he had spent too much time in the last lessons writing poems and songs. And his illusion charm, turning his ideas to exact notes on the lesson to all eyes but his own, hadn't worked that well sometimes. Snape's voice rang again in his head, full of irony and sarcasm: "Mr, Zabini, would you be so kind as to explain me the meaning of 'I will protect you from eternity, if you give me the bezoar from the stomach of a goat'? I really like the first part, though… Nevertheless, one hour of detention in which you will write both parts of that: the notes and the other text. Class dismissed!"
"Zabini! What is it? You coming or not?" Malfoy's voice sounded really annoyed. As usual. Still, Blaise hurried to sit by his side and prepared himself mentally for any discussion about potions. Lucky enough he had listened today and prepared a pretty nice fertility potion – the rabbits he had tried it on hadn't stopped having sex for the rest of the class. Dang it, the memory reddened his ears and cheeks and now, as he walked towards Malfoy, his whole face seemed to be flushed bright red. Whatever. This was just about homework, right?
And then, he was overwhelmed again by the beauty of Malfoy's face. Those long, pale lashes, mystical grey eyes and the perfectly regular face… Not even the little scar across his right cheek, result from a fall from his broom, disturbed that imagine. Again, his self-confidence was crushed – his own appearance, not even that bad, just couldn't concur with that amazing beauty. Focus, stupid!, he called himself to order. He. Was. Not. Gay. This was just the female part of Malfoy's features. End of discussion. Luckily, master Malfoy decided to claim his attention and questioned him about the analysis of the several ingredients of the potion due next Wednesday (it was Friday, untypically early for Malfoy to worry about his homeworks). During dinner, they found a mostly satisfying analysis for everything, ignoring everyone around them. Everybody around would have thought they were flirting as, while discussing quietly, they were so close that they almost touched. Sometimes, when one of them wanted to have the other's attention, he did touch a hand, an arm, just for the matter of a moment – still, it sent butterflies through Blake's stomach. Nonono.. bad idea! Just the butterbeer. right, just the butterbeer. Shut up, stupid, you know that it's something more! – Leave me alone! Oh gosh, voices talking in my head. That's bad.
The two boys were still talking when everybody left the Great Hall to the dormitories. The dishes disappeared and the strong lights vanished – still, they continued to sit. Only some candles lit their excited faces, as they discussed. Long ago, they had left the topic of potions and moved over to other topics such as the best shops at Hogsmeade. Both of them felt the strange need to approach to each other and, suddenly, Blaise felt Malfoy's soft, cool lips on his. His inner voice of reason cried, yelled at him, what the bloody hell he was doing there. Still, the sense of happiness exploding in his whole body simply overwhelmed him, not leaving any possibility but reacting, kissing back. It was nothing but a soft kiss, but it promised much. Very much.
Draco retreated way too early, rose from his chair and took Blaise's hand. "Not one word", he mouthed, and pulled the slightly confused boy with him into the dormitory.

-END OF FLASHBACK-

Oh hell yeah. This kiss had indeed been promising. Blaise softly touched his lips on which he still felt this wonderful softness, the kind urge of Draco's lips. The first time he had mentioned this name, he had felt almost rude. Draco Malfoy was one of the few of Slytherin who insisted on being called by their last name and everybody obeyed without contradiction. To be honest, this first "Draco" had escaped his lips when they had to pause in front of the Common Room door. As the blonde had had to focus on opening the door, Blaise had finally found the possibility to concentrate on making up some reasonably thoughts, to being able to discuss. After one word, he had been silenced again by two cool fingertips resting softly on his lips, and the surprisingly soft voice of Draco, saying: "Blaise, listen. You want me – I want you. We both know you're gay. This will be a thing of one night only and afterwards, you will not have to speak to me again. I promise", and here, Draco had smiled a soft, crooked smile, "I promise to do you no more harm than necessary. Now, please enter."
So easily he had been donated by the simple privilege of the first name. He smirked. "Malfoy" had always had an element of respect, almost fear in it. How sweet could sound the word "Draco", how easy it was to add a pleading note to its pronunciation… And how much easier it was to sigh, moan and scream "Dray" in the varying states of arousal he had passed the last night. Indeed, he had surfed on high waves of lust, still aware of the fact that this night would be unique. There would not be a second One-Night-Stand between the two of them, a circumstance that had even increased the incredible tension inside the two of them.
Blaise had given himself up completely, letting Malfoy – Dray – take the lead of whatever happened. He had opened himself in every physical way possible, something that might have seemed dishonoring in any other circumstance – in any other's arms. Draco had been incredibly soft and tender, always caressing, always finding the time to kiss Blaise's open, longing lips, to play with a streak of his long, bluish-black hair or to stroke his flushed cheeks.
Blake, unfortunately, now found out that this was not the one-night-stand he had expected it to be. Dray not only had showed and given to him what his body unconsciously had been longing for so long, no. He also had woken something in his heart and soul that was not so easy to replace or deny.
Blaise pushed away the white sheets from over his face and looked around, trying to focus on something easier to understand than his own feelings. One stream of sunlight shone through a pair of half-closed draperies, lighting a – despite himself – empty room. So much the better, at least he didn't have to face any curious glances from any of these jerks of the Slytherin house. He dressed slowly and absentmindedly, his brain still occupied with the events of the last night. His slender body wore some bruises caused by Draco's fingernails he could easily hide under a long-armed black shirt. As he once had been told that he looked good in black, he added a pair of black leather pants and the unavoidable black cloak. Great, he thought, as he covered a dark violet love bite on his neck with a green scarf, let's hope it doesn't get too hot today, or you'll look really stupid, man.
Quickly, he ran his fingers through his long, tangled hair, remembering the soft smile on Dray's face whenever he had played with it. His heart beat accelerated slightly and Blaise made a face. I am pretty wrecked, I am. The dark circles under his eyes emphasized this feeling the same way the soreness in his whole body did. At least, the pain had fainted. He shrugged. Gotta live with the consequences of what you do. That's the way it is.
Slowly, he walked to the Great Hall, searching for the chance to get some breakfast. As a matter of fact, it was almost time for lunch, so he decided to join this dish instead of taking breakfast for himself. The house-elves could get pretty mean when they had to prepare something out of schedule, deliberately taking salt instead of sugar and such games. So Blaise accommodated himself on one of the seats and wished for a sheet of papyrus and a quill which momentarily appeared. The quill resting in his left hand, he watched around and saw Draco Malfoy at almost the other end of the Slytherin table – in the centre of a crowd. As usual, at least five girls were around him, not counting Crabbe and Goyle, the always-present gorillas. All of them watched Malfoy with admiring eyes, obviously listening to him. With a hint of exasperation he recognized that even he did while Malfoy, of course, ignored him as he had most of the time in the last years. Oh yes, Blaise knew the way Draco could talk if he wanted. Anybody around him with the least bit of sympathy for the handsome blonde would then feel the need to listen, understand and agree with him. It was a gift the young Slytherin had, and not yet had he completely discovered the power behind it. Blaise knew that for Draco, his listeners didn't mean anything, but as he watched the girls admiring him, one of them (definitely Pansy Parkinson, that ugly…) even touching his arm and leaning on his shoulders, he felt a strong jolt of jealousy. His dark grey eyes narrowed and his full lips – Italian heredity – tightened. He had read about that sensation and had even felt it once in a while when he had seen some of his ex-girlfriends with his successor, but this was different. The other times, the jealousy had been combined with a sense of possession, the wish to cry out "Hands off, she's mine!"
This time, it was different. He didn't feel proud or strong enough to at least raise a word, no. It was merely a sting directly into the centre of his heart, a sting which left him bleeding. With surprising certainty, he suddenly became aware of how few he obviously mattered to the blonde, which caused another wave of pain to run through his body. The lips firmly pressed together in order not to start sobbing, he gripped the quill and started writing stinging words, words that tried to express his feelings and almost did.

Well I thought it would be
A one-night-stand I could have lived with that
But now it seems to me
I'm just a fly that is caught in your net
The things you gave me were
The things I needed most but dreaded more
I wonder why you dared
To show me what I'm longing longing for

Enjoy yourselves and, if you did, feel free to press the button "review". If you have any topic- or grammar suggestions, I would love to read them.